Parallel Worlds
by RosieStars
Summary: What if you woke up in a different universe? Peter Maximoff is lost. One minute he's home, the next he has no idea where he is. Crossing the line between parallel universes can cause a lot of problems. What happens if he can't get to back home? Will he even want to go back home?
1. Prologue

"Whee!" Melody squealed as she rode a library cart through the pristine halls. The sound jerked up Tommy, who had almost dozed off, his cheek rested against a cool marble pillar. The cart full of books driven by the perky redhead came up beside him, the wheels skidding to a stop.

Tommy glared through half-closed eyes. He wasn't exactly tired-he didn't sleep like he used to-but his brain was foggy and needed to stare into the middle distance for a moment or two and think of fluffy things. Several folders secured tightly by elastic bands rested precariously in his fingers, threatening to fall in his half-asleep state onto the shiny, marble floor. All the folders were in a variety of colors, the only difference between each. One was quivering and he was pretty sure another was smoking.

 _Just one more minute of peace was apparently too much to ask_ , he thought, angling his shoulder so his upper torso and back pressed against the pillar. Melody was new, and oh so excited to be here, and it was starting to get on his nerves. She was always so obnoxiously cheerful, and talkative, and he was basically stuck with her for who knew how long. Ever since River assigned her to him so he could show her the ropes, he hadn't gotten more than five minutes of peace and quiet.

Absentmindedly, he checked the watch on his wrist. Seven minutes. A new record.

"Stop playing around with those. They're not toys," Tommy grumbled.

"I know, but I was bored," grinned Melody, a faint Russian accent on her tongue. "Nothing ever happens around here." She flicked through the titles on the spines of the books in the cart until picking out a random one, and flipped through the pages. "I honestly never knew there was this much out there!" she giggled, glancing up at Tommy. He forced a tight smile in return, letting it fall the instant she went back to reading.

"You're not supposed to read them," Tommy chided, plucking the book from her hands, despite her protests. He glanced at the cover to see whose story this was. Ah, yes, the Potter boy, he thought to himself with a sigh. Wasn't he a popular one. "You're just supposed to put them on their assigned shelves, and leave them at that."

Each character in every world and universe got their own story. Their adventures and lives would be written down in a book, and then shelved away in the library. Each day, for as long as that person lived, another page would be added. The library was full of books. There were those with the alternate universes of the original written down, and various for each. Harry Potter was just one example.

Frankly, Tommy found it a bit exhausting, considering he was the one who had to check in every now and then on each to see if the story was going as planned. Mostly, it did, but then there were times when something unexpected happened. Usually, it fixed itself up eventually, but once or twice, he'd had to intervene before things went too far.

There were so many books placed on the shelves of the old, never-ending library that you could wander around for thousands of years, and there would still be more books to read.

"But where is the fun in that?" Melody grinned, taking the book back. "I have to find some way to pass the time, don't I?"

Tommy gave her a look, and she rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine," she huffed, rolling the cart away. Once she was out of his line of sight, he let out a sigh of relief. Although he could bet she probably started reading a few of the books the instant she thought it was safe.

The clatter of the cleaner's bucket being dragged along the corridor behind him brought him back to reality, and he jumped to attention, wiping something that was definitely not drool from his mouth. He nodded politely at the creature with the mop, who saluted back and carried on singing along to the song blasting through the large headphones perched atop its lumpy head. If Tommy had to guess, he'd say the caretaker looked like some form of troll, but he thought it extremely rude to ask someone what species they were, so he'd spent the last couple of years mentally referring to him as the cleaner, or guy-who-likes-classical-and-rock-music.

The area Tommy waited in, where he had spent the last millennia worth of evenings waiting in, was a wide marbled entrance way filled with pillars like the one he'd just been dozing on, and numerous wooden doors scattered along the walls. He always waited outside the same one, though its occupant had changed over the centuries. This one, of course, just had to decorate the outside of her door with sheets of an unknown child's finger painting, a periodic table, and a flier from a kebab shop, which he'd always wanted to go and try someday-Focus, Tommy! he chastised himself

The entrance hall happened to resemble a more classical era, somewhere Aristotle might've enjoyed stamping around, but as was per usual, Tommy didn't exactly look like he belonged there. He wore floppy black pirate boots that had the soles repaired so many times it now looked like it was bound to fall apart at any moment, and tucked into them were a pair of jeans, ripped at the knees. His black shirt was faded so it appeared a more dark grey, but the words 'Glastonbury 1970' could still just be made out among the design, and over that was a dark brown trench coat he'd won from someone a while back. Though not in the best condition, everything about him seemed to be well-worn and well-loved-everything but his hair, which resembled a bird's nest.

That evening's report wouldn't be so different from the others he gave almost every day, yet Tommy couldn't help feeling queasy at the thought of the news he had to deliver. Hoisting up the top file, he flicked through all the pages until he came to the right sheet of paper, and ran his finger down the list of facts he'd hastily scrawled. True, situations like this didn't pop up that often, but usually they sorted themselves out before any _real_ damage could be done. It was just the particular issue that had caught his attention.

He was almost 100% sure that the twins were partially to blame. If he didn't know any better, he'd say they purely existed to make his job as difficult as possible. Along with their whole family, when he thought about it. Especially considering his new trainee. The most he could do was pray that as the generations went along, their knack for causing trouble (intentionally or otherwise) would fade.

A clatter caught his attention, and a series of loud noises followed it. He exhaled loudly through his nose. Though he couldn't see the source, he had a pretty good idea where it came from and what the cause was.

"Sorry!" Melody shouted soon after, proving him right. She poked her head out from behind a bookshelf. Where she was supposed to be doing her job. She gave a nervous smile. "Um, by the way, did you know that we have a teeny problem?"

Another sigh and Tommy rolled his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose. _Don't tell me she's messed up already_ , he thought. "What is it?"

Melody let out a nervous laugh. She came out, and walked up to him with a book in her hand. "Um, is someone missing from one of their...rightful places?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

Tommy shrugged. "Maybe. Why?" he stated, trying to make it seem like it wasn't a big deal.

"I think I might've found him," she nervously chuckled. "And I'm pretty sure he wasn't there yesterday. And I'm also pretty sure he's supposed to be dead in that certain universe."

Attention caught, Tommy whipped his head around to look at her. He knew what had happened, but he was still trying to find where this person ended up in. "Don't tell me..." he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Melody chewed on her bottom lip. "Alright, I won't tell you..."

"Out of every place he could be," Tommy grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "He could've ended up in some alternate version of his own universe or with the Doctor, or Harry Potter, or even those Winchesters, but no, he had to land in _that_ reality." He sighed to himself, taking a deep breath. Maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought. "So when and where is he in this universe?"

The redhead blanched. "Um...I was reading, and I don't think you're going to like this," she stated, opening the book to the page she'd been reading only a minute ago. Showing it to him, he read it, silently muttering the words to himself. Then he got to the part that had worried her so much.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me!" he exclaimed, causing Melody to flinch. "This is bad."

"On what scale?" she asked innocently. "From one to ten?"

Tommy gave her a sharp look, but before he could say anything, the electronic display on the door chirped, and he looked up to see it now read 'Enter!' in a cheery neon green. He snapped the file in his hand shut, secured the rubber band around it, and strode over to the door.

"Good luck. You'll need it when you tell her the news," said Melody anxiously, chewing on her lip again.

"You offer lovely support, you know," he retorted sarcastically. He regained a calm composure, and didn't bother knocking, opening the door with a flourish.

"Evening, River!" he greeted the middle-aged woman hunched over the desk before him. Her hair stuck out in all directions, escaping from the bun she'd captured it in earlier that day, and ink was smudged across her face. Coffee mugs littered the desk, along with stacks upon stacks of paper, a laptop, and an abacus. Not one of the various clocks hanging on the walls told the correct time, but Tommy knew for a fact that River could tell him exactly how early or late they all were to the minute

She stared at him with bleary eyes as he clicked the door close and approached the chair in front of the desk. "Hello, sweetie," she said fondly, smiling to reveal the lipstick on her teeth. "How are you?"

"I'm great. Just hunky dory. You?" he said.

"Only needed eleven cups of coffee today," she stated proudly, typing something on her laptop. "I might be going home soon."

Tommy forced a casual smile onto his face. "I'll try not to keep you too long then."

He launched into the usual updates, fishing out the relevant documents from his files and feeling quite proud that the elastic bands held out for him. "Everything seems to be going according to plan. Eighty-three new variants have been created today, with everything organized for all but four."

"Did some turn you down?" she asked as she shuffled her papers and flicked some beads across her abacus.

"Yes," said Tommy. "But only one threw a shoe at my head, so I'm calling it a win." He stared at the paper he'd been looking at outside in the entrance and drummed his fingers on his knee. He'd run out of things to talk about.

"That's it?" asked River hopefully, hand already reaching into her handbag.

Tommy shifted in his seat, trying to keep his tone light. "Actually, we might have a tiny problem. Small thing, nothing to worry about."

River's face dropped, a resigned look on her face as she sat back down. "That sounds like I should get the emergency procedure forms out."

"No, no," Tommy quickly replied, waving a hand in disagreement. "Honestly, I wouldn't even be bothering you with this. It's just that it involves someone...someone who's not exactly important, but could affect something that is."

River sighed and reopened her laptop, taking a sip of slightly congealed coffee. "Don't try to soften the blow. Just give it to me straight. Who?" she said, clicking away with her mouse until she'd brought up the right program. Tommy took a deep breath, and decided to just spit it out.

"Peter Maximoff."

She rubbed her nose, adding another streak of ink to her face. "Who?"

"Oh," said Tommy, flicking through the papers until he found the notes he wanted. "He's not too important. Not in my reality or in even the several thousands of realities he's in. Only once was he important, and that was in the reality where he died saving Clint Barton, only there, he went by Pietro. Not even there was he that important. He was probably mentioned in some of your other ones."

River frowned and picked up a log book. "The name rings a bell now that you mention it. He's human I take it?"

"Mutant," corrected Tommy. "Not many of those in the population of my world. And where there are, they keep their mutations well-hidden," he added. Even he sometimes forgot how many possible worlds there were, and both he and his manager took care of dozens, most of them vastly different from his own. "He's sometimes referred to as Quicksilver. Broke an Erik Lehnsherr out of the Pentagon when he was a teenager. Mostly known as Magneto-"

"Ahh," smirked River. "Now I remember. He's that old fellow who was all about mutant rights. Good intentions," she sighed, glancing at the screen of her laptop, "wrong way of doing it."

"Yes, evil mutant," said Tommy encouragingly. "Killed far too many people. Made a few disappointing choices. Quickie is his son."

River was making notes on a sheet of paper that already contained a series of bullet points and a game of hangman. "Ah-huh," she muttered. "You're quite right; there are thousands of realities with that, just didn't recognize the name. So..." She looked up, her tired eyes bright. "What's he done? How much trouble are we talking about?"

"Well," said Tommy, jumping to his feet to pace along the little office. "Like I've said, in my reality, Peter is a mutant, one who can run super fast, and he grew up with his mother since his father left them both before Peter was born. The only thing he's done worth mentioning is breaking his father out of the Pentagon after another mutant went back in time to change the future. That and when he assisted the X-Men in stopping the apocalypse. Now he's at a school for mutants and while he does have a knack for getting into trouble, normally, there are a few people who keep him out of too much bother." Normally, Tommy added ruefully to himself. Where they had been when all this trouble started, he wish he knew.

River was on the laptop. "Names?" she demanded, snapping her fingers.

"Well, the owner of the school is Charles Xavier, former ally of Magneto, also known as Professor X. Well, I guess you could say they're friends again, although they differ in opinion, since Magneto is now staying with him for the time being." He gave her a moment's more typing, then carried on. "Peter's made quite a few friends at the school. I'm pretty sure you know the X-Men team from back then. Magneto has yet to know Peter is his son, and basically everyone but him knows. I swear, some of the drama that goes on there is great entertainment."

River's fingers were flying over the keys, her eyes tracing through what appeared to be an incomprehensibly large tree glowing a bright blue on the black screen. "Ah-huh," She said, nodding and blinking furiously. She took off her reading glasses, and narrowed her eyes at Tommy. "I'm still not seeing where the problem is."

"Oh, it's coming," he winced. "Yesterday, something happened. A mansion full of mutants. Something's bound to, uh...go wrong."

River's index finger followed along the tree as she put back on her glasses. "Those things have happened in half a dozen realities as well. You might want to be a little more specific."

"Yes," Tommy replied with a grimace. "But in my reality, what happened managed to send Peter into a reality where..." This as where he started to lose his nerve. "Remember that one I just told you about? Where he died saving Clint Barton, Hawkeye? In that reality, he also has a twin sister. One he doesn't have in my reality. Wanda Maximoff?"

River raised her eyebrows. "That's one of the people I can't forget. Your point?" she stated in a tone that made him gulp.

"That's...where he ended up. And with a little help, I found out, it's after that little 'Civil War' incident between the Avengers," he said.

"Ah," said River, taking her finger away from the tree.

"Now, it shouldn't be too much of a problem," explained Tommy hastily before River could jump to any wrong conclusions. "I've had dozens of instances like this before, but being that he's a mutant, surrounded by superheroes and scientists, he could be able to get himself back home without too much of a headache."

"Too much of a headache?" repeated River, her voice becoming dangerously low. " _Too much of a headache?_ Are you serious? You've lost someone in _another reality_?"

Tommy held up a finger. "Yes," he said, trying to sound confident. "But I'm sure it won't be long before he finds out a way to get back home. It can be done."

River gritted her teeth. "And what," she grounded out, "about the consequences of him being in this other reality?" She sighed in frustration, and put a hand up to her forehead. "He will derail it entirely!"

She was right, but Tommy knew it wasn't completely hopeless. "There's still a reality where he doesn't show up, and that one will continue to branch out as usual. This reality will fix itself too...eventually. I promise it's what happened last time."

"Last time?" she huffed, shaking her head. "Who on the many earths allowed you to remain in charge after this happened?"

"A stunning, clever, very wise-"

"Oh, give it a rest!" she snapped, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I want hourly progress reports."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied quickly.

"Where is he now?"

As he stopped pacing, Tommy allowed a sense of relief to creep into his stomach. It was always best to discuss the problem out loud. Even if that person you were talking to wanted to fire you. "I'm not precisely sure, but now that I know what reality he's in, I can check up on it to see."

River took a deep breath. "One chance to fix this. I'm putting a lot of faith in you to not mess this up. Don't make me regret it."

"Understood. Soon, this will be something to laugh about on late nights," Tommy smiled nervously as he backed out of the office. He was already getting off easy. No way was he pushing it.

She flipped her log book closed and folded her hands in front of her. "I want to know the second this boy is back home, understood?"

"Right, you are," agreed Tommy, reaching behind him for the door. "I'm sure it will be fine. Nothing to worry about." The instant he slipped out the door and the lock clicked shut, there was a soft _thwack_ heard from the other side of the door, followed by, "Ow!" Then there was a series of fervent, loud whispers that suggested they'd be shouts if they weren't right outside River's office.

"Nothing to worry about," muttered River. She listened to the argument outside until it stopped. A moment passed as she stared at the tree-like diagram before her. It was a spiral of infinite possibilities. For every decision, there was a branch, an offshoot. "Nothing to worry about," she sighed to herself, and took another sip of congealed coffee. "Yeah, right."

Author's note: Okay, so the point of view will switch between Wanda and Peter each chapter, with some in between with 3rd person point of view of what's going on with Melody and Tommy. I sincerely apologize if any of the characters are OOC


	2. Chapter 1

**_Unknown:_**

I was told once: nothing every dies. Everything is always in our hearts, and if it can be remembered, it can come back. But now I can say: How much of an idiot did I have to be to believe that? Everything dies one day, but it's completely normal. It's life. Just life. And to be honest, in my eyes, life is one of the most brutal and most horrible things I have ever seen.

You have your time. You never know how much. It could be a month, few of them, maybe years, and sometimes-well, mostly-there are many, many years. Yet...you can't do everything you want to do. One thing's for sure, though. We don't have forever. None of us do.

You make plans that might never done, dreaming of better days, but c'mon, look the truth in the eyes. It won't come. Your life is already planned from the very beginning.

Now, let's start the story, shall we?

* * *

 _ **Wanda Maximoff:**_

The frigid wind blew in my face, my dark hair whipping around me. The bitter cold cut through my dark gray hoodie, making me feel numb. Numb. If only I could feel like this all the time, or rather, not feel. Anything but the emptiness that sometimes threatened to swallow me, drag me deep inside myself.

I sat on the edge of a rooftop overlooking the city, the moon peeking through the clouds swirling in the inky sky as I wrapped my arms around myself for warmth. A sigh escaped my lips, a cloud of foggy mist rising from my breath.

Rose kept encouraging me to get out of the apartment more, but I didn't like being outside so much. Not anymore. I'd say it's been a year since the "Civil War" between the Avengers as everyone's calling it now, and two since Pietro's been gone.

The mere memory of his name caused a lump in my throat. I missed him. No matter how annoying he could be, for the longest, he was all I had. And now he's dead. It's been two years, and I should be over it...but I'm not. I don't think I'll ever be, knowing my other half is gone forever. No matter how hard I've tried to let go of my old life, it continued to haunt me.

Ever since the fight with Stark and we escaped from the raft, I went my separate way. I still worry the government will find me again, and put me back in that straitjacket with that shock collar around my neck.

Thinking about it made me instinctively touch my neck, remembering how the collar had been so tight it restricted my breathing. Or how many times I felt excruciating pain because of that collar. Steve says it was because they're afraid of me. They're right to be afraid. With all I can do, even I'm afraid of me sometimes.

The constant pain and the constant fear back on the Raft made it worse. Nowadays, I try to keep my distance with people as much as I can. Rose is about the only person I do interact with, unless you count her friend Aaron who sometimes sleeps on the couch. They managed to become the only friends I had out here. Both kept encouraging me to go outside every once in a while.

Thankfully, not many people come up here often. Sometimes, I love looking up at the stars at night, wondering what else could be out there. Looking up at the sky, it reminds me of how little we know about our universe, about how little is already explored. Yet it scared me.

It was just a feeling, but something told me that tonight would be a good night for stargazing. A small voice in the back of my head that told me something was going to happen tonight. I don't know why, but I trusted it. If it hadn't been wrong before every time it hinted I was making the right decision, why would it now? Even before the experiments, my instincts had almost always been right, so I had no reason to doubt it.

Getting up, I swiftly climbed down the side of the building using a rusted fire escape, and stepped onto a dark side street. With a small sigh, I put my hands in my pockets, and made my way down the cracked sidewalk, being careful to avoid stepping in the dim halos of light illuminated from the street lamps.

The neon sign of O'Leery's Bar greeted me, the blinking leprechaun lifting its arm repeatedly, drinking a mug of beer. I entered through the front door, stopping to look for Rose who would be getting off her shift in a few minutes. The girls working here all looked the same to me, though. Waitresses all dressed in a white blouse, black vest, high shorts, and fishnet tights, with various levels of skin showing through their uniforms, scurried about the pub, serving drinks or taking orders. Despite Rose's explanations I never understood why the owner made them wear such provocative uniforms.

Hazy smoke filled the bar, the dingy lighting making the whole room seem dim. The TV droned on in the background, set on the news. There were only about ten or fifteen customers in the bar, which Rose told me is the usual for a Wednesday night. Most of them wore unbuttoned work shirts, ties loose and hanging off their neck, presumably just having gotten off their job for the day.

Just as I was about to leave, my anxiety spiking among all these people, I saw Rose's familiar head of black hair with purple steaks. She grabbed her jacket and her messenger bag, and started toward the door when she noticed me. She was still in uniform, but unlike the other girls, she was easy to spot with her black nail polish, black eyeliner, and the ring in her left eyebrow. Well, that and her black leather fingerless gloves with the words "Fuck off" on each in bold letters. You can rest assure none of the other waitresses wore those during their shift.

"Red?" She came toward me, and grabbed my upper arm, turning me around to walk with her. "Nice to see you're finally out of the house, but I don't think tonight's a good night," she said in a hushed tone. Together, with her grip gentle but firm on my arm like I was going to run off at any moment, we walked out the door and into the night.

I gave her a questioning look. "Your face was on the news again today," she sighed, her Brooklyn accent heavy on her tongue. "They were talking about how they had yet to find Captain America's side of the Avengers. The men were all drunk, and could barely tell their left from their right, but I don't like to take any chances."

My eyes widened, and her grip tightened slightly. "No more running off," she hissed. "I worry about you these days."

At those last words, I looked down at my feet. I couldn't help but feel the slightest bit guilty that it was my fault to put her through this. My fault she now had to work twice as hard since she'd taken me in. My fault that she was in danger. I'm not sure if she even knows how much trouble she'll be in if the government ever find out she's been housing me, a fugitive.

"Come on," she said, turning down an alley. "It's a shortcut-"

"Rosie!" a voice from behind us chuckled. She flinched, and let go of my arm before turning around. "How you been? Who's your friend?"

"None of your business, Tyrese," she snapped, folding her arms. Nervously, I turned to see a man standing at the entrance.

"Really? 'Cause she looks an awful lot like that chick on the news," he said. "What was her name again? The Scarlet Witch, right?"

"I don't have time for this," she huffed, grabbing my arm again, though this time, the pressure on my arm was harsher than last time. There was an urgent gleam in her eye that she kept well-hidden from most people, but never from me.

"There's a reward if they turn her in, you know," he stated lightly. "Maybe we could split it, 50/50?"

"Obviously all that alcohol's gone to your head," she snorted, whipping around to face him. "I should know. I served you every one of those drinks." She gestured to me. "This is Louise. My girlfriend, in case you were getting any ideas."

"The thoughts I have are concerning the police station. Why don't we hear it from the dame herself?" he asked suspiciously.

"She's mute," Rose snarled. "She'd rather not be reminded of that."

I took a shaky breath, hoping no one could hear my heart beating loudly in my chest. "And look what you've done! You've scared the poor girl out of her mind!" Rose snapped, gesturing to me again. "She's always been paranoid about going outside. I finally convinced her to face her fears, and now you've ruined it!" I have to admit, she's a good actor. "She's probably never going to want to go outside again!"

"Hey, my bad," he shrugged, raising his hands in surrender.

Without saying anything back, Rose turned around and led me back down the alley. Under her breath, she mumbled, "If things go south, take a left at the trash can and run."

I nodded right before I heard the same man from just a few seconds ago yell out, "Liar!" She shoved me forward. With a quick glance back at her, I followed her instructions, and ran.

"You can't escape justice!" he shouted.

"Just like you can't escape a broken nose!" Rose yelled back, followed by a thud. Then a loud clang and another thud. After a few seconds, it went silent. I stopped for a second, and just stood there in the middle of the alleyway. What if something happened to her?

As if on cue, she came walking around the corner, checking her nails. There was blood on her knuckles, and she was frowning. "I thought I told you to run," she chuckled once she saw me standing there. I didn't say anything. She frowned at her nails again. "That idiot made me break a nail," she grumbled. A small smile pulled at the corners of my mouth.

"She _can_ smile! Come on, you," she sighed. "You'll be the death of me." She put an arm around my shoulders, and pulled me close before ruffling up my hair. For a split second, my mind flashed back to Pietro, and I tried to push back the wave of nostalgia that hit me. She wasn't him, yet she reminded me of him, and I think they'd get along pretty well.

We walked through the alley until we reached our apartment building. Rose let go, and jumped up to pull down the fire escape ladder. After the second try, she got it, and waited for me to climb up. Right before I could grasp the metal, a blur from somewhere behind Rose caught my attention. It was there one second and gone the next.

I've seen that happen before.

"Red?" asked Rose, turning to see where my eyes had wandered. I didn't answer. My attention was focused elsewhere. I walked past her, slowly approaching where I'd seen the silver blur. It was stupid to hope, I know, but...maybe-

Any thought I had came to an abrupt stop as something ran into me with such force that I flew back, and my head slammed onto the pavement. Pain exploded in my head and I saw stars. All sounds sounded muffled in the background, like someone had thrown a blanket over it. My vision blurred, but I thought I saw someone standing over me with silver-colored hair and a face filled with concern.

"Pietro?" I mumbled out, my voice sounding weak and hoarse after a year without use. Then everything faded away into darkness.

(Author's note: Yay! Second chapter! It probably sucks, but hey, I tried! Until later! ?)


	3. Chapter 3

_**Peter Maximoff:**_

"Whoops!" I cried out as I ran in another direction just before I collided with Raven. Turns out, I really should start looking where I'm going. Right after that happened, instead of Raven, I had the amazing luck of running into a wall.

"Are you okay?" she asked, trying to stifle her laughter. And failing. She stood over me as I laid on the floor, my head pounding from my nice meeting with the wall.

"No, I normally just lay around on the floor in pain," I groaned out sarcastically.

"Sorry," she quickly apologized as she held out a hand to help me up.

"Don't just appear in front of me like that," I huffed, clutching my head, the world still spinning slightly. "I could've run you over!"

Raven gave me an unimpressed look and rolled her eyes. "I came by to talk to you," she said. Uh oh, I knew that tone.

"About what?" I asked uneasily.

"I just wanted to know when you were going to tell him?"

"And I just want to know when you plan on shutting up about it," I shot back, sounding a little more annoyed than I meant to.

Raven raised get eyebrows, clearly unsatisfied with the abrupt remark. "How about I tell someone in the house each day you don't tell Erik? Just for motivation."

I shot her a death look. "You wouldn't dare!"

She grinned. "Oh, you know I would. I'll probably start by telling Charles." That evil grin grew wider at the thought.

I looked at her, pleading with my eyes. "Please, Raven, don't. I'm just...waiting for the right moment."

She sighed loudly. "It's been almost two months since the whole apocalypse thing. You've had plenty of time. Plenty of 'right moments,'" she scoffed. "You're just too damn scared, and for God's sake, Peter, he has a right to know!"

I scoffed, trying to ignore the fact that she was right. "Whatever." Then I did what I do best. I ran. And I ran, and I ran. By the time I finally slowed down, and settled on a bench outside to let my body catch up, it was already dark.

Why did I have to know Erik was my father? Growing up, I didn't mind being without one. I already had a living mother and a half-sister who always managed to make me smile. My mom was the one who raised me and taught me how to walk and ride a bike, and she helped with my homework-I didn't have the patience to pay attention in class long enough to understand what the teacher was saying-and above all, she put up with me even though I gave her nothing but problems. Sure, learning how to shave was a interesting process, but it worked out in the end. For as long as I could remember, the only moment I ever wished my dad was around was when my powers came in. Yeah, Mom knew where they came from, and wasn't at all scared, which was great, but she couldn't teach me how to handle them. For that, I was on my own.

But of course, everything had to change the day I saw Erik, the man I'd broke out of the Pentagon, on the news, declaring war on all of humanity. I had been there in front of the TV with my sister in my lap as everything had happened. My mom looked scared, and I asked her why she looked so terrified, but not all surprised.

Eventually she spilled that Erik was indeed my father. I guess that's what she meant when she said she used to know a guy who could control metal.

That was about 10 years ago, and a few things had changed. I had moved to the X-mansion, and Charles was trying to convince me to become a teacher or something. But I couldn't focus on that. Not while my father was here, and I still hadn't built up the courage to tell him the truth.

What was I supposed to say? Hiya, I'm the son you never knew about? How would he even react? Maybe he wouldn't want to be my father. What if he was ashamed of me? After all, I was nothing compared to him. I'm a total loser. I barely graduated high school, never got a college degree, and I lived in my mom's basement well into my twenties.

Sure, before I'd never needed him in my life, and if I'd never met him, I'd be fine. But this was different, because I _had_ met him, and all I could think about was how much of a disappointment I would be to him. And the possibility hurt a lot more than I thought it would.

"Hi. Mind if we join you?"

I turned my head to see the twins, Vera and Vitali. They had come a month ago to the school. They were seventeen, eighteen in six months. The two were born and raised in Russia, but had come to visit family and ended staying to learn how to control their powers. You can still hear the accent. Vera was usually the one to speak while her brother was more quiet.

Though they were as different as night and day, it was like they were two halves of the same person. While Vera was dark with glossy pitch black hair and brown skin, he was light with white-blonde hair in a braid and pale skin. The only thing that ruined the image for both of them were the eyes. Now, those creeped me out, and everyone else for that matter. And if you saw what we saw everyday, it would creep you out, too.

Vitali's irises were pure black, and I avoid looking him in the eye along with almost everyone else. I did that the first time we met, and it was like every single bad memory I had resurfaced. And if you're stupid enough to maintain eye contact after that, which I apparently am, that gaze sears into your soul. Vera's, though, were pure white, standing out even if she were in a crowd of people. Every time she stared at me, it felt like my whole life was being laid out in front of her. And watching her watch me with those eyes was just a teeny weeny bit intimidating.

"Uhh, sure, why not?" I said nervously, scooting over. She blinked a few times, and smiled.

"Raven's right, you know," Vitali mumbled, his voice soft. "Erik does have a right to know."

"Were you two eavesdropping this morning?" I asked, annoyed.

"No," Vera answered, kneeling down beside me, staring out at the water. "She was telling Charles and we were walking by to ask him about something." She gave me a smirk, and yanked on Vitali's ankle to pull him down. He yelped, and fell on his back. "So, I thought you could use some advice from people closer to your age."

"And by that, she means she didn't like how the Professor was going to go about it, and so she trapped him and Raven in his office," grumbled Vitali as he readjusted himself so he sat up, and criss-crossed his legs. "I figure we've got at least ten minutes before someone hears them."

I looked at them in shock. I didn't exactly take them for the trouble-making type. Or maybe that was because I didn't notice. Or they were just that good at it.

"I'll admit it was a bit of a shock," continued Vera.

"Probably not as much as it was for me when I found out," I joked, giving a dry laugh.

"Well, actually when you think about it, it makes a lot of sense. I mean, there is a bit of a resemblance," mumbled Vitali. I thought I caught a faint smile, but it quickly disappeared.

"So, how long have you known?" Vera asked, starting to play with a few strands of my hair. I tried to bat her hands away. You don't see me messing around with hers. She smacked them right back, and a lot harder than necessary. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to hit a lady, boy?" she joked, though she took her hands away.

"Isn't he at least seven years older than you?" smirked Vitali.

"Is he? Couldn't tell with how he still acts like a child," she quipped. I rolled my eyes and started to get up, but she pulled me back down. "Sorry," she apologized. "I'll try to be serious. Very serious." She took a deep breath. "So, how long have you known?"

"About ten years ago," I replied uneasily, wondering if she was planning on making another smartass comment. "Right after he did that whole 'I'm gonna kill the president' speech."

She nodded. "Then why haven't you told him yet?"

"He had a wife and child. He never even knew I existed. If I barge into his life right now, telling him I'm his son..." I trailed off. "I'm a total loser. Look at all I've done with my life. You guys are younger than me, and you've still done more with your life than I have. I've never gone to college, and I just barely made it out of high school. He wouldn't want me as his son. Not after what happened to his family."

After a moment of silence, Vitali spoke up. "Peter, my sister can see a person's whole life just by looking into their eyes," he said. Really? Well, that explains that eerie feeling I get. "She's seen Erik's pain and suffering. She's seen everything happened to him. And I have a feeling he'd be glad to find he still had some family left in his life."

"He's known so much pain and loss," Vera said quietly. "More than anyone else I've ever looked into. All he wants is someone he can care about and who'll care about him. Yeah, he's probably still grieving. I would be too." She picked at some pieces of grass, tearing them from the ground. But then she looked apologetic and put her hand on the spot, making more grass grow in its place. She then continued tearing in half the pieces in her hands as she talked. "I'm sure he'd be more than happy to find out you're his son and that he still has someone left in this world that's been cruel to him far too many times."

"Well, if he ever gets over the shock," I joked. I thought I heard Vitali laugh but it also might've been a cough. Vera gave me a bright smile, and those eyes actually didn't look as scary as before.

"Just tell him, okay," she grinned. "You'll never know if you don't try. Besides, I've already given you a head start so you have a bit more time to tell him before Raven does." I laughed at that. Although now that I think about it, when Raven does find out it was the twins, she'd probably have both their heads.

"And you have had a while," stated Vitali. "You've just gotta get your courage, go up to him, and bite the bullet."

"Yeah," agreed Vera, clapping my shoulder. "It could be much worse."

"True," I sighed. Glancing at her brother, Vera got up, and gestured for him to do the same.

"Trust me. It's better to do it now before it's too late," she said, and there was a trace of sadness in her tone. "Life's too short to let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game."

With that, she slipped her arm into the crook of her brother's and walked off. By the time I broke out of my thoughts long enough to turn around and respond, they were gone. Well, they are right, it could be a lot worse.

* * *

A week later, I made my way back inside after running. Despite my conversation with the twins, I still had my doubts. Even before, I kept finding myself making excuses, like how he was playing chess with Charles or having a conversation with him, or talking to Raven, or occasionally helping to watch the younger mutant children. In my head, he always seemed too busy or something. And the two of us might actually be having a normal conversation, but even then I'd come up with the excuse that telling him then would ruin the cheery mood. After all, telling someone they're your father out of the blue is like dropping an anvil on them. It's a lot harder than it looks.

The twins tried to help every now and then. And it was weirdly comforting to have their support. Just yesterday, when I told them it was going to be the day I told him (the same thing I told them the past few days in a row), I found Erik asleep on the kitchen counter and Vitali tying his shoe laces together so "he couldn't run away" when I tell him the news.

Finally, I just told myself that the next time I saw him, I'd tell him before I chickened out again. How ironic is it that I'd yet to see him all day? Or how ironic it was that what happened when I went upstairs was something I did _not_ see coming.

I'm still not exactly sure what happened, but the next thing I know, something slammed into my head. Sharp pain exploded in my head. And then everything suddenly went black.


End file.
